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BLOODLETTING

pairing: seonghwa / reader wc: 1.8k genre: pure smut (mdni) warnings / tags: smut with little plot, vampire seonghwa, fem reader, gentle dom, manhandling, body worship, pining, slight blood-play, impact play, vague prey and predator dynamics, possessive and nasty, breeding, overprotective, dacryphilia if you squint, unprotected sex (DON’T DO IT!), cunnilingus, overstimulation req: yes! / no a/n: my irl requested this so i wrote it with her and my other friend whilst making friendship bracelets .. yay,,, hope yall enjoy :3

Two hundred and fifty-six years. Two hundred and fifty-six years of pure and unfiltered agony. 93,503 nights of prowling around the village, every single moment spent looking for you. Sure, there were other women, but none of them tasted like you; only sparing his time out of sheer necessity.

#ateez #miaugi #ateez fic #ateez smut #atz x reader #seonghwa #seonghwa x reader #seonghwa headcanons #vampire seonghwa #seonghwa smut

WANT

synopsis: mingi over-estimates his aphrodisiac tolerance, and reaps what he sows by begging his roommate for help.

pairing: mingi / reader wc: 1.3k genre: pure smut (mdni) warnings / tags: dacryphilia, slight dom/sub dynamics (barely), whiny mingi, oral (m recieving), dacryphilia if you squint, accidental aphrodiasic usage req: yes! / no a/n: FINALLY FIXED THE FORMATTING! this was a req from a lovely follower and i had so so so much fun writing it <3 <3

#ateez #ateez fic #miaugi #ateez smut #atz x reader #song mingi #mingi smut #mingi x reader #mingi #mingi fanfic #ateez mingi #mingi hard hours

ATEEZ

˖⁺‧ hongjoong glass houses - the pseudo-god of industrial metal takes a liking to you. (in progress, smut in later chapters.) ˖⁺‧ seonghwa bloodletting - 256 years of yearning. he found you, and he isn't letting you go. (pure vampire smut) the blonde - a frustratingly beautiful man steals the only left-handed desk in your lecture hall. (slow-burn + unfinished) cold blood - some vampire!seonghwa headcanons (yandere-ish vibes, smut) ˖⁺‧ yunho (nothing yet) ˖⁺‧ yeosang (nothing yet) ˖⁺‧ san (nothing yet) ˖⁺‧ mingi WANT - mingi eats a fuck ton of aphrodisiacs. you're his roommate. (pure smut.) ˖⁺‧ wooyoung (nothing yet) ˖⁺‧ jongho (nothing yet)

(graphics by @strangergraphics-archive)

GLASS HOUSES

Pairing: Kim Hongjoong (Ateez) x Reader

Wordcount: 975

Genre: DJ!Hongjoong x Rivet-head!reader

Featuring: Mingi as readers best friend, other members mentioned in later chapters.

warnings: eventual smut, drinking, smoking, drugs, clubbing(?), possibly mean!dom hj.. but in a later chapter :3

chapter 1/?? A/N: this is totally self-indulgent. (went to see atz in atlanta and i got brainworms) idk how often ill update this but its here for yall <3 (cross-posted on ao3! here)

The bass felt alive, thrumming through the concrete beneath your feet. Swaths of PVC and leather sleeves flailed around in near-chaos on the dancefloor, and you just had to be here tonight. KMFDM blasted through the speakers as you dodged stray elbows, slipping and sliding through the crowd to the bar. Mingi slouched on a leather stool, phone open to his ex’s number in one hand, vodka Redbull in the other. Pain bloomed behind your eye, each beat a knife, drilling through your skull. “Fuck- Was it this loud before?” You nearly had to scream, but Mingi wasn’t listening. He finally broke his attention from his phone, meeting your gaze. “Oh yeah. It’s some new DJ.” Then, quieter, “He fucking sucks. Can’t wait ‘til Hongjoong gets here.” His words are bitter… but you blame it on the alcohol. Hongjoong.

You had heard his name before, but hadn’t really paid attention to him, just assuming he was any other rivet-head guy in the scene, but he was supposed to be some pseudo-god in the scene for his acts. Your legs dangled from the barstool, lost in thought, before you realized the music had stopped. A group of guys you vaguely recognized assembled more equipment, and the previous DJ had apparently vaporized.

A synthetic sound of glass shattering assaulted your ears, the volume cranked from the previous ‘act’. Almost thirty feet away and your ears still rung like a bell. The dance floor stilled, the noises turning into a cacophony of ear-grating, assaulting racket. Then, almost magically it bled into Glass Houses. Mingi stumbled up from his seat, almost tripping over his new-rocks trying to get to the dance floor. You stood up to see the chaos, groups of rivet-heads and goths practically fangirling over this unassuming looking guy. He looked like any other guy, but what did you know? Suddenly, the lights were completely out except for a few scattered LED signs. Tripping over your feet, you made it to the dance floor. Fuck. His face was all angles, a singular white contact in his left eye and shoulder-length hair dancing with the vibration of the bass to his nasty remixes. What came out of the speakers was absolutely filthy, a cocktail of sex and static. Faintly, you could hear moans (definitely not his.) Scrambling, you entered the dancefloor with the grace of a newborn deer, barely able to get your bearings before dancing to the mechanical beat. The tempo was brutal, somehow rushing and dragging at the same time, and the crowd was squirming like a mass of viscera. Each song bled into the next, tempo changing but somehow consistent. The sludgy rhythms infected the entire club, walls trembling under the bass as the man practically jumped for joy, his demeanor a total one-eighty from his music.

You were consumed by the music, gripping you like machinery gone rogue. He had a way with the turntable, abusing it into submission as the beats shrieked in agony. Your body danced like a machine on the brink of failure, arms burning as the tempo picked up again. Then, as the tempo slowed, you locked eyes with him. Something lingered behind his gaze that seemed unsettling, but maybe it was the white-out contact. To your dismay, the set eventually ended. Dancers dispersed throughout the club, some drinking, some smoking, most leaving for home. You stood there, clinging to any sort of melody that remained. Every step you took sent a surge of pain through your thighs and hips. You hadn’t noticed the pain while dancing, but it was in full force now. Mingi was nowhere to be found–probably with his ex–and you were left in the middle of Hongdae, in the skimpiest outfit a store could sell without the consumer being charged for public indecency. The cold air scraped across your skin as you stepped outside of the club, wandering down the back exit, needing the silence. Dodging puddles in potholes, you barely walked six feet before giving up, leaning against the club wall. A voice. “You have fun?” Came from your left, barely decipherable through the ringing of your ears. Your gaze whipped around, meeting the man’s voice. Hongjoong. He looked exactly the same as he did before, but something about him set him apart from every other guy in the scene. “Oh! I did.” Your voice was shredded, a night of vodka shots and screaming had destroyed your vocals. “Good.” He lit a clove cigarette, silently offering the pack to you. You shook your head, eyes desperately scanning for Mingi. A beat and a half passed by, standing in comfortable silence next to the man that had ruined other DJ’s for you forever. “How long have you been in the scene?” The question was hesitant, not wanting to accuse him of being a poser. The clove cigarette left his lip for a moment, arms folded in contemplation. “Six? Seven years? No clue.” He paused, fingers drumming at the mesh sleeve covering his tattooed bicep. “I just like music. I never got too involved with the community, too many elitists.” You nodded in agreement; the tension palpable. “You’re a really good dancer, by the way.” His words were careful, staring right out into the street as a red trickled up the back of his neck. “Thank you.” A blush creeped up the back of your neck, matching his. A stark silence lingered, almost uncomfortable. Almost like a hammer to a window, Mingi appeared from the backdoor. “Fuck-There…you are..” He slurred, slinging an arm around your shoulder. His breath reeked of booze and heartbreak; The beginnings of tears tricking at the rims of his eyes. You shoot an apologetic look at Hongjoong, not that he even knew your name, as you dragged Mingi back to your shared apartment. The beat still pulsed in your veins.

#ateez #ateez fic #miaugi #ateez smut #hongjoong #atz x reader #kim hongjoong #hongjoong x reader #atz

The Blonde

The Blonde wc: 3190 genre: slow-burn enemies (?) to lovers. seonghwa x reader <3 warnings: mention of puking and passing out, otherwise just... slowburn notes: (sorry, this has been sitting in my google docs for too long and i need to do something with it... idk if ill be doing any more chapters though? idk. i hope yall enjoy it, even if it is just a little <3)

(vicious fight for the only left-handed desk in the room)

Men fucking suck.

The chill of the winter month pricked at your nose, chills rolling down your spine as you trudged through the icy and vast courtyard of your college campus. The warm hug of the heater hugged at your body as you pushed open the heavy doors to get into the lecture hall. Swarms of people rushed around, trying to get the best seat before the professor eventually enters in late– as per usual.

And then you see it, the singular left-handed desk in the midst of the crowd; Open and ripe for the taking, It practically had a golden halo emitting from it. You sped-walk towards it, nearly knocking several people over in the process like bowling pins. It was an abnormality that a desk at your college was left-handed and you absolutely had to sit in it, it felt like your destiny.

“Excuse me.” A deep and sharp voice cut through your trance, a clean-cut man in an oversized beige sweater sidestepped right in front of you and took the seat you had been rushing to.

A frown sagged at your lips due to the man’s pure audacity, you’d never seen him before and you knew you’d be the only person using that desk. So, you decided to confront him. (In your own way, atleast.)

“Hi, I’m so sorry, but I was going to sit there if you don’t mind...” You squeaked out, your stomach churning at your impulsive decision to confront the intimidating man, Your fingers tangled together in a nervous mess as you tried scooching towards the desk.

“I didn’t see your name written down on the desk– So I guess I’ll be sitting here today.” The man spat out at you through gritted teeth, as if you were subhuman; He was disgusted at your mere presence and wasn’t shy to make it known.

You glared at him, begrudgingly taking the seat next to him to end the excrutiating interaction without any further disputes. The professor finally hobbled in with his gas-station coffee, beginning the lesson.

The professor droned on and on, most of his lecture turning into static as you slipped into a daydream, doodling on the margins of your notebook. Out of curiosity, you found yourself constantly glancing over at him. Out of anger? Maybe, but you knew that his looks captivated you. Your eyes continued to steer towards him despite your own mental protests.

He was wearing a loose-knit sweater, his blonde curls nearly perfectly covering his forehead as he stared off in the other direction. He was angelic-looking, and smelled like fresh laundry and lavender. He was genuinely one of the most handsome men on campus, so why did he have to be such a douche?

The lecture finally ended, cutting you out of your day-dreamy trance and you violently snap back into reality. The room was emptying, leaving only you, your bag, and the few people who have yet to wake up from their naps. Grumpily, you clumsily shoved your laptop and notebooks into your bag, still grimacing about the desk.

—

The door to your dorm was like the gates of heaven. A ray of comfort in the overwhelmingly gray and dull campus you were trapped on. You opened the ill-fitting door to find your roommate and best friend of several years screaming at his game while lounging on the couch, typical. Silently, you slip through the cluttered and abhorrently noisy living room to your bedroom.

You finally reached your safe space, a place to finally let go of the day and a reprieve from thinking about that dick earlier today. Why was he lingering on your mind so much? Instead of exploring your conflicting feelings, you threw yourself face-first onto your thin, springy mattress.

Wooyoung’s voice echoed through the dorm as you buried your head into your pillow. Hopefully he would just assume you’d be asleep as you usually are. Except– he didn’t.

“Why do you look like someone peed in your cereal?” He slammed the fragile door open, crossing his arms and leaning on the old door frame of your room as he questioned you, a concerned look plastered on his stupid face.

“Some guy with some audacity stole the only left-handed desk at my lecture.” You mumbled into your pillow, your face burned with irritation at Wooyoung’s questions, you didn’t want to stew in the situation that happened with that guy.

“What class was this?” Wooyoung questioned back, tilting his head slightly.

“Mr.Kyu-wook’s..” You sigh out, knowing he’d make fun of you for how long you’ve been steeping in your pure, pent-up anger for the guy who stole your seat. It was a completely frivolous problem and you knew it, the idea of that man just stuck in your head like a leech.

“Isn’t that your first class of the entire day?” He stifled a giggle, “Dude come on.”

You’d groan into your pillow before finally hoisting yourself up to actually have a conversation with Wooyoung, despite your strong desire for a nap.

“You don’t get it– that guy was such a dick.” You groaned, “He talked to me like I was some sort of parasite! I can’t stand him!” Your brows furrowed in disgust and hatred.

Wooyoung nodded and grinned at your complaining..

“What did he look like?” Wooyoung giggled, reveling in your suffering.

“He was like blonde and he was wearing a stupid fucking sweater and he looked like one of those babies in those catholic paintings or whatever.” You couldn’t even bother to remember the name of the cherubs, your face heating up in a rage as you remember the frustrating guy who stole your seat.

Wooyoung’s eyebrows knitted into an unreadable expression, his hands running through his hair as he thought harder about who the asshole was.

A brief silence rang loudly through the room before he suddenly yelled out, slicing the comfortable quiet of the bedroom.

“Holy shit!? Are you talking about Park Seonghwa!??” He doubled over cackling, wiping tears from his eyes, almost like a switch had flipped during his realization.

“Dude I don’t know?” Your hands slammed to your ears at the sudden and violent jump in volume from Wooyoung.

“I know that guy!” He continued laughing heartily, unable to contain himself,

“He isn't even left-handed!” He shouted, still sobbing with laughter.

“WHAT.” You cry out, louder than Wooyoung’s laughter. Your face contorted into a villain-esque frown as you realize the douche wasn’t even left-handed.

Wooyoung finally composed himself, standing as straight as he could muster without giggling.

“Why don’t you get to class extra early to get the desk? I know he rarely wakes up on time, so you’d definitely get the desk” Wooyoung giggled, hiding his conniving grin behind his hands.

“I guess..” You bury your face in your palms, feeling a red-hot rage course through your body as you mentally plan to get that desk tomorrow.

—

Six AM. Your head was pounding, and by god you were going to get that desk. Everything felt like a challenge sent to torment you just for existing, especially getting ready for lecture before the sun rises.

You barely manage to make it to the lecture hall in your pajamas and coat, the snow actively plotting on your downfall as you walk the icy path down to your class. The snow attacks your face, making your eyes water and nose run.

The entrance of the lecture hall is deserted, almost as if it was abandoned in the night. The snow crunches beneath your beat-up boots as you slowly creep up to the door, awaiting the warmth of the lecture hall.

Your arms gave the heavy wooden doors a tug, and finally felt the relief wash over your body from the heated interior. The hall was barren, you could’ve picked any seat and yet you still picked the left-handed desk out of spite.

It felt like royalty sitting in that seat, your arm perfectly cushioned by the armrest designed for your left arm instead of having to awkwardly write on the right side of the desk. You’d empty your bag onto your desk, your notebooks almost smiling up at you with how proud (and sleep deprived) you were for getting the desk.

Fatigue hits you fast, your approximately three hours of sleep weighing on your consciousness as you attempt to stay awake for the actual lecture.

—

You awoke to a poke on your arm, the vision of the sharp-faced man looming over you. A jolt ran through your body as you realized that he was staring at you and had the audacity to wake you up.

You sat up, scanning the room to see swarms of people leaving and stragglers behind packing up their stuff before you finally met the man’s gaze again.

“Yes?” You sniffled, your nose began to run. Maybe you shouldn't have woken up at such an hour and walked to class in below-freezing temperatures.

He refused to meet eye-contact with you, almost as if he thought he would get sick by just meeting your gaze.

“You fell asleep, do you need my notes?” He asked, sneering even though he was doing this out of his own kindness… If you could call it that.

“I guess?” You responded, puzzled by his puzzling and inconsistent behavior.

He didn’t give you a verbal response, instead he just handed you his notebook and strolled off.

The notebook was one you would find in a cute stationary store, it was a soft peachy shade of pink and it had several rabbit stickers plastered on the entirety of its cover. You checked the inside to find the first page,

If lost, Return to;

Park Seonghwa

xxx-xxx-xxxx

Your jaw clenched in irritation as you closed the notebook, shoving it hastily into your bag before you had to dredge through the snow again.

The snow was unrelenting, especially with your lack of sleep and sudden illness, but at least the snow dampened the sound of the bustling city around you. It was silent except for the crunch of your boots beneath the icy snow under your feet.

You took a moment to appreciate the silence, approaching a lonely covered bench near the courtyard. You coughed into your elbow and re-adjusted the scarf you had forgotten you put on this morning, almost everyone’s classes were canceled today, and once again you found yourself alone..

Until you weren’t.

Park Seonghwa suddenly appeared, standing next to where you were sitting on the cold bench.

“I’d like to apologize for my behavior yesterday.” Seonghwa broke the silence, staring at the dancing snow in front of the both of you. Your head snapped to him, noticing his put-together outfit and your cobbled mess of an outfit.

“You’re good, I guess…” You mumbled, unsure of why he was suddenly apologizing to you, especially after being so weird in class.

“You’re Wooyoung’s roommate, right?” He questioned once more, a total juxtaposition to who he was approximately a half hour ago.

You nodded, feeling the cold affecting you deeply through your thin pajama pants and thrifted puffer jacket.

“I’ll walk you home, you look like you’re seconds away from freezing to death” He stated, giving you no choice in the matter, still standing there with his arms crossed.

“Okay..” You responded meekly, this guy went from an asshole to an actually okay guy within a day? Your eyebrows knitted together in confusion as you trembled in the cold.

Almost omnisciently, he responded to your concerns,

“I’m going to see Wooyoung anyways. He planned a huge get-together for all of us.”

You noticed his mannerisms, how he fidgeted with his fingers and refused to make eye contact with you, or anyone for that matter. A soft energy surrounded him, and it felt like you finally understood him, even if it was only a little bit.

“Well, you look like you’re about to freeze out here. Let's go.” Seonghwa held out his hand to help you stand, over-exaggerating your sickness. He still was cold towards you, but he seemed to be trying to be kinder. You took his hand and stood up to meet him face to face.

You finally got a chance to fully examine his features, and he was breathtakingly handsome. His blonde hair was pushed back, exposing his forehead and his eyes were soft and forgiving, once again a whiplash-inducing change from your perception of him yesterday.

You and him walked in silence to your dorm building, he seemed to be casting brief glances at you every so often, so you kept your eyes straight ahead to avoid any awkward small-talk between you both.

Once again, the door to your dorm was like a savior from the tortuously awkward walk.

“Thank you, by the way.” You stated, before turning to open the door to your dorm.

He only nodded as you unlocked the door. As soon as you opened the door, Wooyoung yelled out.

“Is that Park Motherfucking Seonghwa!?” He practically screeched out within the millisecond you had the door opened to the dorm. You buried your face into your palms once more and squeezed into the dorm as Wooyoung loudly and chaotically barreled towards the door to greet Seonghwa.

—

The night continued on and Wooyoung had invited more of his friends over to play games. You couldn’t take it anymore. The yelling and pure testosterone flooding your dorm room was abhorrent and it disrupted your nap and you tossed and turned before shooting Wooyoung a text.

‘Can y’all please quiet down a little?” You stared down at your phone, the yelling only progressively amplifying into a nightmarish mess of swears and name-calling.

You finally saw the read receipt and sighed a sigh of relief, before the typing bubble popped up once more

“LOL sorry. We r playing valorant. Want 2 join?” He texted back, the yelling still loud.

“No. I want to sleep” You frustratedly typed back. You didn’t even bother responding back to his message before you turned your phone off and flipped back over to your favorite spot on the bed.

Your limbs became as heavy as lead, the shouting turning into nothing but background noise at this rate and your eyes fluttering shut. Your brain drifted around the day before in a fever-dream of thoughts. The comfortable warmth of your bed cradled you as you slowly drifted off to sleep—

Until it quieted down. Suspiciously quiet. One of your eyes slowly slipped open out of curiosity, and you crawled out of bed in your daze. You never eavesdropped on your roommate, but your feverish haze had you reckless and impulsive.

You heard two voices, one very distinctly Wooyoung’s, and you can barely make out Seonghwa’s voice.

“You think they’re cute?” One of them giggles, definitely Wooyoung.

“I guess, I feel really bad for how I acted.” The other spoke in a shy and deep voice, Seonghwa?

The sentence bubbled around in your brain for a while. He thinks you're cute? You press your ear closer on the thin door to try and make out more of their conversation.

“I mean, you already apologized, plus you’re so concerned about them you asked me how to make soup for them. Hell, you barely know them!” Wooyoung whisper-shouted to Seonghwa. You could hear a loud thunk from the kitchen, assuming Wooyoung dropped a pan.

“Dude I don’t know how to romance anyone… My mom always said food is the way to someone’s heart…” Seonghwa whisper-shouted back to Wooyoung, you could hear his annoyance through the door and you felt a smile creep up the corners of your mouth. A flush burned across your face, you were unsure if it was a blush or if it was your fever. Probably both.

“Here, why don’t you ask them out for coffee?” Wooyoung finally calms down, the smell of chicken noodle soup wafting into your room, making you feel comforted by its presence.

Eventually, you find their conversation to drift to sports and legos, So you pull yourself away from the door and curl up into your bed, finally allowing yourself to succumb to the fatigue you’ve endured all day as you dream of suspiciously Seonghwa-esque angels.

—

The screeching of your alarm blares in your ears at six am again, prompting you to wake up as if it was the last thing you’d do. You were so sick you felt like you were a gas station roller-dog that was left for a little too long, so you decided to stay home that day. It’s not like you even needed that class to graduate.

You slammed your fist on the snooze button, desperate for the screeching to stop as you rolled back into the comforting warmth of your bed.

—

The next time you opened your eyes, it was nearly evening. A pool of sweat and nausea greeted you to your newly awakening consciousness. You pick up your phone and check the time..

The clock read 4:32 pm, and you scanned through the notifications, A dozen missed calls from Wooyoung, spam notifications from games you don’t play anymore and a text from an unknown number. The text read,

“Hello, this is Seonghwa. Can you please bring my notes to my dorm?”

You found yourself staring blankly at the text, it was sent a few hours ago. You were unsure how he got your number, but the more you thought about it, Wooyoung probably gave it to him. He even texted like an arrogant asshole. A few thoughts run across your mind, before you responded,

“Whats your dorm #? I can be there asap.”

Your shoulders sagged at your insistent need to please others, you were basically bedridden and you still decided to say yes to giving his notes back tonight. You turned your phone off as you wearily dragged yourself out of your cocoon of blankets and exited your room to see Wooyoung cooking… Something. The smell hit your face first before you even got a chance to ask him what he was making.

You audibly gagged, the smell inflaming your nostrils. Your hand pinched your nose as you approached Wooyoung in the kitchen, you should’ve worn a gas mask.

“Wooyoung, what the hell are you cooking?” Your eyebrows furrowed, your body fighting a losing battle not to puke.

He turned back, nonchalantly, as if he was blind to the smell that was assaulting your senses “Oh,” He paused, “I'm making fried durian for Yeosang, want some?” He casually responded, his eyes moving back to the crackling pan on the stove. In the midst of your nausea, Yeosang’s presence went unnoticed.

You noticed your vision warping and your stomach lurched from the smell. you stumbled off-balanced, hands desperately clinging onto any nearby surface for stability. Without warning, your stomach wretched all of its contents up onto the kitchen tile.

As your vision blacked out, you saw Wooyoung and Yeosang jump up to help you, only barely catching you so you didn’t bust your head open on the tile.

“Fuuuck.” One of the voices groaned out as you attempted to come-to from your puking bout.

–

#ateez fic #ateez #seonghwa #seonghwa x reader #kpop #slow burn #tension #enemies to lovers #miaugi #unfinished

requests are open!

my requests are be open!!! i'm not too particular about what i write, just as long as both parties are consenting adults! i can play around with darker themes, (cnc, dacryphilia, overstim, primal, sadomasochism, stalkers, yanderes) just with a few caveats such as breathplay, ddlg (or daddy kinks), non-con or dub-con, and the other usual suspects :3 aside from those, go wild!! i'd really appreciate any fuel to the flame as i am *desperate* to write! all i ask for are reblogs and comments <33 (also i'm yungi and bangchan biased. do with that what you will.) -miau

(graphics by @plum98!!)

#miaugi #ateez #ateez fic #ateez smut #atz x reader #seonghwa #seonghwa x reader #song mingi

MIAU-STERLIST

miau | 18 | nsfw + sfw reqs open/closed ₊‧⁺˖ (mainly writing for atz and skz but any groups are welcome! <3) ☾ atz ☾ skz ☾ etc ☾ao3

(graphics by @strangergraphics-archive, @sister-lucifer, and @bernardsbendystraws!!!)

#ateez #ateez fic #miaugi #ateez smut #atz x reader #fanfic #ao3 writer

stigmata - j.yh x reader

♱ warnings - DEAD DOVE DO NOT EAT (like slash srs yunho is irredeemably evil.) dub con / cnc , cults & religious trauma, blasphemy, psychological horror, manipulation/grooming, yandere behavior, coercive control, self-harm imagery (ritualized), blood/stigmata, emotional abuse, loss of autonomy, sexual content, gore (18+ minors dni) ♱ DUBCON DISCLAIMER: I do not condone any of the actions / events that happen in this fic, dub con is NOT okay in real life and there are resources to help if you are triggered, this work does not portray the real people involved, but fiction renditions of who they are, you have been warned!! I love you all and please stay safe <3 ♱ wc- 1.1k ♱ a/n - cute little teaser after being gone so long!!

devotion is a lesson written in wounds.

The hall was almost empty. At the end of the hall, a figure sat with their head in a worn leather book, you'd recognize it as the Bible. His presence alone put a dark weight into the air, like you weren't supposed to be there. His hands would drum on the wooden table, an a-tempo rhythm, before his head would snap up, his dark eyes staring right through you. Almost immediately, something felt horribly wrong as a grin cracked through his face. He'd close his Bible with a grin, rising from the wooden chair he'd been sitting on with an inhuman energy, like a shadow stretching. His eyes were completely empty, almost dead, yet fixated on you like a predator—Not ugly, though. You’d scrub away the thought, invasive and unwelcome. "You're early." He closed the distance with long, deliberate steps, The air surrounding him seemed to thicken with every step, Your palms slicking with sweat. "I'm sorry.. I didn't remember the time." You'd apologize through stutters, inching away from him ever so slightly. Your index fingers picked at your thumbs. "That's alright." The words were soft, but something in the tilt of his head, the subtle curl of his grin, made your skin prickle. He took your hand in his, pressing his cold lips to the back of your palm. Your stomach jumped at the contact. "My apologies, I should’ve introduced myself." He paused, still leaning down, his eyes met yours and a pit opened deep in your stomach. "I am Father Yunho, the shepherd to guide our flock to heaven," The robes made it obvious enough, but hearing it confirmed the thought anyway. He released your hand and straightened, his shadow stretching over you like a weight you couldn’t escape. "And you?" His eyes bored through you, shattering any confidence you had. You'd say your name, your voice timid. He'd flash a smile with teeth, not meeting your eyes. "A pleasure to finally meet you, miss." His gaze finally lifted upwards to the door, a few scattered people entering the room, bibles in clutch. "Just in time." As he stepped away, your shoulders loosened, and you allowed yourself a small exhale. Seven men stood in a half-circle, quiet, observing. You should have felt comfort in the normalcy, but the way their gazes lingered on him and you, made your chest tighten again. You'd sit down on a lone chair, as far from Yunho as possible. The men would follow, interspersing in the semi-circle with their own Bibles in hand. Before Yunho sat, he handed you a worn, leather-bound Bible. He smiled, and sat in the front of the circle. Your hand lingered on his for a second too long. "Thank you all for coming today, as you can see we do have a new member, so please be sure to give her a warm welcome." His words were welcoming, but lacked soul. A man with longer black hair would give you a smile, less unnerving than Yunho's. Yunho grasped his Bible, letting the silence stretch.

#ateez smut #atz x reader #ateez #ateez fic #miaugi #ateez x reader #ateez fanfic #yunho x reader #jeong yunho #ateez yunho #yunho #yunho smut